


Femslash February 2017

by politicalmamaduck



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-25 08:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9812186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/pseuds/politicalmamaduck
Summary: A collection of Tumblr prompt response pieces for Femslash February! Pairings and prompts in chapter titles.





	1. Jessika/Kaydel, girls' night out!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diasterisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diasterisms/gifts), [OccasionallyCreative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionallyCreative/gifts), [solikerez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solikerez/gifts), [cuddlesome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlesome/gifts).



Her lips tasted of the salt from her margarita.

* * *

 

It had been a rough week at the Resistance base. Pilots were short-staffed; many had been sent out on a mission and there hadn’t been word of the outcome. Jess had been scrambling to coordinate everything not only between the colleagues she had remaining on the base, but also with Command. Kaydel had scarcely been able to leave the communications center, with everyone so frantic, desperate to hear even a hint of news.

When a report finally arrived on Friday that the mission had been a success, Jessika decided that a girls’ night celebration was in order. Only a few essential personnel who had been off-duty at the time the news came in remained on-duty that night, as it seemed everyone was either headed into the small nearby spaceport to celebrate or finally getting some rest.

Kaydel fixed her hair into her signature buns and applied her favorite shade of lipstick, trying to feel confident out of her uniform. It had become her second skin, an integral part of her identity. After one last look in the mirror, she made her way across the base to Jess’s quarters to head out together.

Jess looked stunning in a low-cut jumpsuit, and she complimented Kay on her dress. They met up with a few of the other hard-working ladies who had agreed to head off-base for a night of drinks and dancing, and decided to truly enjoy the night with no regrets.

It was a few standard hours later when Kay realized it had been quite a while since she had partaken in any kind of drinking and that not only was her tolerance lower, so were her inhibitions. After fixing her lipstick in the ‘fresher, she found herself dancing very provocatively in close quarters with Jess.

She had known for a few months that she had fallen in love with her best friend, but she didn’t dream that Jess would return her feelings–she was so beautiful and gregarious, she could have had at least half the base for a partner if she so chose.

But of a sudden, she and Jess had moved off the dance floor to the side, their eyes and smiles bright, and then Kay’s fingers were in Jess’s hair and Jess’s arm was around her waist.

Her lips tasted of the salt from her margarita, and it was perfect.


	2. Rey/Phasma --one of them steals a ship

The hyperdrive was leaking, alarm signals were blaring, and she needed a hydrospanner.

The enemy was gaining on her; blaster shots were ringing out all around below her, turbo lasers from above, and she hadn’t even cleared atmo yet.

The ship she had stolen was not her preference, but it would have to do. 

The battle had ended badly. They had been ambushed, and they were not as well prepared as she would have liked. A long scratch on her arm was dripping blood to the floor, but she had no time for that now. 

She had to get the ship through the blockade and make it into hyperspace. Then, she could rest and repair the ship, and herself. 

The alarm klaxons continued to shriek in her ear. One more hit, and her deflector shields would be gone. 

The shrieking was overtaken by an earsplitting crack as the ship started to lilt sideways beyond Phasma’s control. She tugged the wheel to the left, turning her entire body with it, but the ship continued to drift to the right and down. 

The Captain of the First Order braced herself for impact.

* * *

 

When she emerged from the crash landing, her vision was spotty. She had landed inland from the planet’s beaches, under a verdant tree canopy. It would be pretty, if she weren’t in horrific pain with ringing ears and blurred vision. She grunted as she tried to get up. Her arm was now coated with blood, her helmet meters away, and the ship smoking to the other side of the patch of forest into which she had managed to crash.

She stumbled over to her helmet, only to have it slip from her blood coated fingers.

“Stop right there,” a voice said, and Phasma lurched up from her helmet. Her limbs had suddenly become awkward and ungainly, quite unusual for the poised Captain. _You’re better than this, stronger than this_ , a voice at the back of her head whispered. _Be strong, Phasma_.

_I’m always strong_ , she replied. 

She turned with a soldier’s poise and grace to face a young woman.

Instinctively, she knew this had to be the young woman who caused such trouble on Starkiller. She had a lightsaber quite unlike Kylo Ren’s attached to her belt, and there was something unnaturally graceful about her. She looked young, but as though she had seen many things beyond her years. 

The woman looked at her with concern. 

“You’re hurt,” she said. 

“What’s it to you?” Phasma couldn’t help but ask. 

The woman blanched. “I don’t believe in adding to someone’s pain and suffering,” she said, visibly stifling anger. She ripped a strip of cloth from her sleeve. “Come here,” she said, and there was the force of suggestion behind her words. 

Phasma found herself walking forward, despite her best instincts. Her eyelids were growing heavy; she knew she was losing too much blood. Once she had lost parts of her armor, it had only been a matter of time.

She collapsed into the woman’s arms. 

Hours later, she awoke to darkness. The woman was sitting by a small campfire, cleaning weapons. Phasma’s arm had been neatly bound, as had several other cuts and scrapes she had earned during the battle and subsequent crash. Her helmet was sitting beside her. 

The woman was looking at her calmly, seemingly taking her measure once more. The firelight accentuated her eyes and lithe figure. 

“Who are you?” Phasma blurted out, then cursed herself for speaking so rashly.

“I’m Rey,” she said, with the hint of a smile. 

A smile that promised something more than just an enemy combatant taking a prisoner.


	3. Sabe/Padme, fake dating

It was all pretense, another form of elaborate artifice.

The intricate hairstyles and wardrobe of Queen Amidala masked the truth of the elected Nubian monarch, a young woman surrounded by a phalanx of nearly identical handmaidens.

The levels of dedication and commitment to her cause masked the truth of Sabé Carbonell’s heart: she cared deeply for her queen, more than that of a friend and colleague.

Every time she painted Padmé’s lips with Amidala’s Scar of Remembrance, she wondered what it would be like to feel those lips beneath hers. Would she taste the queen of Naboo, or Padmé?

Now well into the second term as queen, the handmaidens all--Padmé included--longed for the days when they could escape the confines of the palace and walk the streets of their beloved and beautiful capital city. Wearing civilian clothes and meandering through marketplaces was a precious gift, even if only for an hour before duty called once more.

Sabé and Padmé lingered behind as the others went forward to admire jewelry and scarves. Padmé dressed simply when she was not Amidala, the heavy costumes and makeup of her calling more than enough for her. Sabé usually followed suit, not wishing to draw attention to herself other than often entwining a colorful scarf about her neck.

The sun was shining, and the city seemed particularly vibrant that warm spring day. Nubians rejoiced in the spring, when their goddess Aigualí blessing them with abundant water flowing and bubbling, bringing life to the trees and flowers.

Padmé smiled at Sabé, her warm brown eyes alighting with the sun, and Sabé felt her heart could sing.

She slipped her hand in Padmé’s, as they were accustomed to do, and they walked along to another market stall, nodding at the sellers as they passed. Having been friends and comrades at arms for so long, they scarcely needed to speak; their language was that of looks and gestures. It translated well to their duplicity as queen; one head tilt from Padmé told Sabé everything she needed to know when it was her turn on the throne.

Padmé pulled Sabé along to an older woman’s stall off a side alley from the market place. Her visage was kindly, and her eyes showed a true smile as the young women approached. She gestured at a beautiful scarf emblazoned with violets, a rare flower not often seen on Naboo.

“A gift,” she said, looking at Padmé, affection evident in her words.

“Per a la seva parella?” she continued in the old Nubian, nodding at Sabé.

Sabé’s heart exploded with joy for the old woman; she had called her Padmé’s partner in the old Nubian, a beautiful language few now spoke in their daily lives and in meaning, an even more beautiful gesture to the handmaiden. The old woman couldn’t possibly have known, but the wording combined with the language was a precious gift.

Padmé smiled at the senyora, and looked back at Sabé, a look that made her weak in the knees.

“Si,” she said, nodding at the old woman and pulling out her pouch of credit chips. She took the scarf and tied it perfectly about Sabé’s neck, arranging it just so. Sabé knew she was blushing, and stammered out her thanks to the woman in nervous Nubian.

“Bella,” the senyora told Sabé, pressing her hand. She blessed them in a traditional Nubian prayer before they moved on, tears in both women’s eyes.

They stopped on a tree lined sidewalk, the sun filtering through the leaves.

“Padmé,” Sabé started, but once more, she couldn’t find the words.

Padmé only smiled, until Sabé kissed her. Padmé’s lips were soft and sweet, and perfectly her.  


	4. Padme x Rey

The beautiful, sad woman had dark eyes almost as big as her matching curls. Stars twinkled about her, highlighting the flowers entwined in her hair. 

She looked down on Rey from above, smiling sadly and extending her hand to stroke Rey’s cheek, but never said a word. 

Rey would see her every so often when she looked out upon Jakku’s night sky. She knew there had to be a reason behind the woman’s appearances, though she was uncertain as to it. She knew the woman was not her mother or grandmother, yet she still longed for her. Sometimes she imagined the woman was her soulmate, and that she flew a starship to where she was to rescue her. Other times she imagined just sitting at her side, far away from Jakku, laughing together with no cares in the world. 

After Rey left Jakku, she did not think much about the mysterious woman she had seen in the stars. The Resistance and learning to use the Force left her with scarcely any time to think about herself, let alone a shadowy presence from the past. 

Years later, after the war was over, she accompanied General Organa and her son to Naboo. Rey tossed and turned attempting to sleep aboard the ship, conflicted about her feelings for the former Kylo Ren. Slipping a robe and slippers on over her sleeping tunic and trousers, she slipped out to the ship’s viewport to gaze out into the hypnotic blur of hyperspace. 

She finally fell asleep in the copilot’s chair, the woman from her visions on Jakku reaching out her arms across blue parallel lines. 

Naboo was more beautiful than Rey possibly could have imagined. She wondered if someday she would ever take greenery and abundant water for granted, but for now she still marveled at each and every planet she visited that teemed with life. 

She was startled out of her reflections as they approached the capital city’s palace. Set into an archway was a larger than life image of the woman she saw in the stars, dressed in royal regalia. She stopped for a moment, staring up at her, her mouth agape and her eyes wide. 

General Organa came up beside her, putting her arm around Rey’s shoulders. 

“That’s Padmé Amidala,” she said, looking up at the image fondly. “She was Queen of Naboo, and then its Senator until she was killed by the new Empire.”

Rey could feel and hear a profound wave of emotion coming from her beloved General. 

“And she was my birth mother.”

Rey turned to her, in shock. 

“I saw her in the stars when I was a little girl,” she blurted out, her mind whirling as she attempted to process the truth of her visions. “She comforted me. I had no idea who she was. I saw her again last night.”

Leia smiled, and embraced Rey. “You’re a lot like her, in many ways. She was a fierce fighter for what she believed in, and unquestionably remarkably intelligent and compassionate. She would have loved you.”

With tears in her eyes, Rey looked up at the image once more. 

_Thank you, Padmé_ , she thought. 

For just a moment, the image appeared to smile down at her.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive feedback always appreciated. You can find me at politicalmamaduck.tumblr.com! Many thanks to ReyloTrashCompactor for her beta skills.


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